Ingrid Weaver – Her Baby's Bodyguard (страница 2)

She turned to face him. Like the other men, he held a gun, but he had the barrel pointed toward the ground. He was tall—the top of her head barely reached his chin. A thick wool cap was pulled low over his ears, and the moon was behind him, so she couldn’t see much of his features except for the outline of his jaw. It was square and tautly set. As were his shoulders. Although his black coat looked bulky, he didn’t. Even motionless, he exuded an impression of lean strength. He stood with the readiness of a runner waiting for the starting pistol. Or a wolf stalking a deer.

Another tickle of fear fought with her logic. She breathed deeply a few times, forcing herself to think. Regardless of how gently this man had been speaking to her, she couldn’t afford to trust him entirely. Too much was at stake. She lifted her chin, regretting her earlier display of weakness. “Thank you, but the disk is quite safe where it is.” She kept her voice at a whisper, hoping he wouldn’t detect the tremor in it. “I’ll turn it over to the appropriate authorities once I am in American jurisdiction. No offense meant.”

It was hard to tell for certain with his face in a shadow, but he appeared to smile. “None taken,” he replied. “They did say you were smart.”

By this time, the other men had withdrawn to the edge of the road. From the woods on the far side of the church came the rumble of an engine. Eva jerked in alarm.

“It’s okay, ma’am.” The man gripped her elbow and steered her toward the noise. “That would be our ride.”

A truck pulled onto the road. It was the same size as the supply trucks that went to the complex, but there the resemblance ended. Except for short metal panels that formed the sides, the rear part of the truck was covered with canvas. The rest of it was so rusty that there was nothing to reflect the moonlight except the windshield. It looked like a relic from a past war, held together with bits of wire and luck, not an uncommon sight in this region of the Caucasus.

Eva looked around. These men had probably chosen the truck so it wouldn’t attract attention, but they didn’t expect to make it all the way to the coast of the Black Sea in that, did they? “I was told we’d be going by helicopter.”

“It’ll be at our rendezvous point. This area is too hot to risk a landing, and we figured you would already have had enough of a stroll for one night.” He guided her closer to the truck. “By the way, are you wearing a pack under your coat?”

Her hand automatically went to the bulge where Katya nestled. “I was instructed to bring no luggage, and I brought none.”

“Uh-huh. That doesn’t mean much. I’ve known a lot of ladies who see fit to pack a purse as big as a suitcase for a trip to the corner store. Is that what you have there?”

“I understand what’s at stake better than anyone, and I made sure to raise no suspicions. I was very careful with my preparations. It will likely be more than twenty-four hours before anyone realizes I have left the complex, Mr.…?”

“Norton. Sergeant Jack Norton.”

Sergeant. Of course. She should have guessed the American government would send military people, but her contact had given only the barest details of the extraction plan.

Then again, she hadn’t told her contact all the details, either.

One of the other men jumped to the truck’s tailgate and pulled back a corner of the canvas tarp. A cloud of exhaust obscured Eva’s view for a moment. When it cleared, she could see a faint, green light glowed from inside where a large man knelt in front of what appeared to be electronic equipment.

Still gripping her elbow, the sergeant tilted his head to regard her as they walked. “Nah, it’s too big for a purse. Pardon the personal question, ma’am, but are you pregnant?”

“No, Sergeant Norton.”

“Because if you are, you should let us know. The trip out could get rough. We want to be prepared if there could be any medical complications.”

“I am not pregnant, I assure you. I’m in perfect health and don’t expect you to make any allowances for me.”

“Okay, great. So what are you hiding under that coat?”

She’d known they would find out sooner or later. Katya would need to be fed in another few hours. Eva had hoped to be safely on her way out of the country before that happened, but she could see that the soldier wasn’t going to let this go. She splayed her fingers over the curve of Katya’s back. “My daughter.”

They were less than two meters from the back of the truck. He stopped dead and pulled her to a halt beside him. “Whoa. I couldn’t have heard you right.”

“You did. It shouldn’t make any difference. She’s almost three months old, so she’ll be no trouble.”

“You brought a baby?”

“Surely you don’t expect I would leave her behind.”

Because he was turned toward the moonlight, she could make out more of his features. His mouth was bracketed by twin lines that would probably crinkle into dimples when he smiled. Actually, he looked like a man to whom smiling came naturally. Laugh lines softened the corners of his eyes, but there was no trace of humor in his expression now. His lips were pressed thin and his eyes narrowed. A muscle twitched in the hollow of one cheek. “Dr. Petrova—”

“Shouldn’t we be getting on the truck?”

For a large man, and one who spoke so gently, he could move surprisingly fast. He hitched the strap of his rifle over his shoulder, reached for the front of her coat and lowered the zipper.

Jack Norton had seen his share of trouble during his years with Eagle Squadron. He’d faced fanatics with bombs strapped to their bodies and enemy soldiers who were loaded up with enough weapons to fill an arsenal. He never took anything for granted. It was when a man felt safe that he usually bought it.

So he should have known this mission was going too smoothly.

It was a baby, all right. She was trussed up in a jury-rigged cloth carrier that held her across the woman’s midriff like a combination apron and hammock. A lacy, knitted cap covered the baby’s head. One tiny fist, wrapped in a mitten that trailed shiny ribbons, rested against her mouth. Luckily, her eyes were closed, which meant she was asleep, but how long that would last was anyone’s guess.

Actually, it was up to Murphy, the guy who wrote the law about anything that could go wrong, would….

Jack looked more closely. The kid wasn’t the only cargo the woman was hauling. Two lumpy cloth sacks dangled from strings on either side of the kiddy carrier. So, she hadn’t lied—technically the sacks weren’t luggage. The coat was large and knee-length, and she’d obviously made use of every square inch of space she had under there. It was a wonder she had been able to walk one klick like that let alone six.

Jack tapped the largest sack. “What’s in these?”

“Diapers and baby clothes,” Eva replied. She spoke fluent English with only a hint of an accent, which was to be expected. According to army intelligence, she’d spent the first few years of her life with her mother’s family in upstate New York. She’d been nearly four when her Russian father had gained custody.

Eva brushed his hand away and zipped her coat closed. Not all the way, though. He could see that she’d left a gap at the top for air. “I don’t want her to get cold,” she continued. “She might wake up.”

“Right. We sure wouldn’t want that.” His mind filled with crying-baby scenarios, none of them good. They were in hostile territory on a mission his government would disavow any knowledge of if it went wrong. Discretion was essential. That’s why the major had made the team plan for every contingency.

Having an infant along wasn’t one of them.

Eva stepped closer and poked her index finger at Jack’s chest. “I made a bargain with the American government, Sergeant Norton. Safety and asylum in exchange for my cooperation. I expect you to honor it.”

He snapped his gaze to her face. Could she think they would leave her here?

One look in her eyes told him that she wasn’t thinking at all. She was terrified. That’s why she had concealed the kid and why she’d refused to part with the disk. Those shivers he’d felt through her arm probably weren’t all due to the cold. She didn’t trust him. His reaction to her excess cargo wasn’t helping matters.

She’d taken him by surprise, that’s all. But damn, a baby? Even when he wasn’t on a mission, he kept as far away from those as he could.

Jack took her hand from his chest and gave it a squeeze. “You’ve got me confused with the politicians, Dr. Petrova. I’m a soldier. We take our honor seriously.”

She didn’t relax. Instead, her expression tightened further. It made her look more like the photograph that intel had provided.

Like the rest of the team, Jack had committed that picture to memory during their briefing. The shot had been more than ten years old, taken when she’d been awarded a doctoral degree in chemistry from Moscow University when she’d been nineteen. In it she’d looked far too serious for her age, as if she’d been trying to prove something. She’d stared unsmiling at the camera, a regular ice princess with her pale blue eyes and platinum hair. Her high cheekbones and delicate jaw hadn’t changed since then, though her lips seemed fuller. He wondered briefly whether she still wore her hair long, yet nothing showed from under the thick cap that she wore.